The Loudest Ballroom Dance In The World
by ghostchibi
Summary: Danse loves power armor. Cait doesn't really understand. Thankfully, she's not too against the idea of trying it out, at least.


A/N: Originally posted to the Fallout Kink Meme. OP asked for Cait and Danse dancing in power armor, with additional requests for trans!Cait, trans!Danse, or both. Me being me, I went with both.

* * *

Danse loves power armor.

The others don't quite understand how. Maybe it's the fact that he's spent so much time using it. Maybe the strength and nigh-invulnerability make up for the other less desirable traits of the armor. Whatever the reason, the other members of Sole's little troupe can't fathom how Danse can possibly walk around in power armor all day without a single complaint. He seems happier in it than out of it, really.

"You're a strange man, Danse."

"I am sorry that you feel that way, Cait." He's been spending too much time around Deacon, if that's the response she's getting from him. "But I do hope that you still love me."

"I do. But you're still strange."

Danse raises an eyebrow at her, open affection in his expression as he turns to face her. He's in his power armor again, even though there's really no reason to be stomping all over Sanctuary in it. It's not like they're at Spectacle Island, what with its mirelurk problem. Actually, Sole had reactivated the beacon there, so even on Spectacle Island it wouldn't be necessary. Regardless, Danse has a habit of wearing that power armor, and Cait is certain that it has everything to do with his inability to relax. Despite what Danse might tell her, she doubts that it can be very comfortable.

"You would change your mind if you tried it, I believe," Danse says. "And, given your preferred fighting style, I would say that it might be even necessary."

"I haven't died yet."

"I'm not willing to risk something so precious."

Cait punches him in the shoulder, and Danse only laughs in reply.

"Have you ever worn power armor, though?"

"Not once."

"You should at least try it."

And that is how Cait ends up inside of a suit of Sole's power armor. Ideally, the frame would be fitted to her, but she and Sole are roughly the same height and of about the same build, so it's not too bad. She's not sure how Danse convinced her, because she feels kind of ridiculous, kind of big, kind of... hmm.

The drag against her body as she moves will take some getting used to, and the noise is a bit too loud, but Cait finds that it isn't too bad. She's not used to such restrictive armor, or anything that more or less encases her completely from the neck down. With the helmet on, she'd be fully enclosed.

"I move too slow to punch anything," she complains.

"Once you get used to it, movement becomes much less difficult."

"Whatever you say. Look at this. You've made me into a tin can too."

Now that she's in power armor too, Cait ends up towering over Danse again; he has to tilt his head back to look her in the eye. The sudden added height is also something to get used to. But for Danse, Cait realizes, it's probably a good thing. Feeling less small. Having every inch of his body covered, what's underneath completely obscured by the armor. In a suit of power armor, it's impossible to tell what the wearer looks like. He doesn't have to worry about how he looks underneath, the curve of his hips and his belly, the padding of fat on his thighs and stomach. It does what his favorite jacket can't, effectively hiding everything from view and forcing people to look at his face, rather than anything else.

That thought is rather enticing. Not to mention, power armor is intimidating. Nobody would ever eye her too-straight hips, or think too much about her height, if they couldn't get a good look at her body in the first place. No questions, no weird looks, and a lot more fearful respect. But power armor wasn't made to look pleasing. It was made for withstanding bullets.

"Can't fight shitheads if you don't look good," Cait says under her breath, repeating the phrase that Sole had once uttered while passing over a hideous, if not well-made, set of armor.

"I suppose a paint job could help," Danse offers.

"Look, no amount of paint can fix this mess."

Cait turns around once, still testing out the movement. It's a little bit easier now, now that she has a better grip on how much effort it takes to move. Danse is watching her intently, probably hoping that she'll enjoy the power armor as much as he does. And as much as she's unwilling to admit it, she actually does. This is nice. This is powerful. Slow, and loud, but powerful. And she could get used to it.

She doesn't want to get out yet, because she went through the entire effort of getting it on and getting used to it. There's nothing to do other than stomp around, experimentally swing her arms in a mimicry of her own battle stances.

Danse looks completely enamored, watching Cait clumsily move about. As if she's got his grace of movement in it, instead of walking like a toddler and jerking her arms around with all the dexterity of a super mutant. Yet here he is, entirely entranced by her, and an idea pops into her head.

"Hey, Danse. Wanna dance?"

Generally, this makes him scowl at the pun. But when she holds her gauntleted hand out to him, showing that she's actually serious about the offer, Danse's face lights up. My god, she can practically see the stars in his eyes.

"I- Yes!"

Dammit, he's adorable.

Her steel-and-polymer-clad hand grasps his, and they proceed to make the most noise that Cait has ever had the fortune to take part in creating. Their footfalls turn to heavy thuds, their laughter is high-pitched and hysterical. Dancing in power armor is the most difficult thing she has ever done, because she still hasn't got quite the hang of moving in it, Danse keeps laughing too hard to properly balance himself, they both move too slowly for the speed they're trying to maintain, there's no actual music and thus no actual beat-

Three people round the corner to the back of the workshop and stop dead in their tracks. Deacon is laughing at them. And so is Hancock. Preston just look a little bit confused. They were probably expecting mole rats, or a yao guai to be causing all of this noise, not the resident battle couple having a dance in power armor.

Danse is laughing too hard to answer Preston's question of exactly what are they doing? Is that power armor? Is that the general's power armor?

"We're having a dance, and you three aren't invited," Cait calls over her shoulder. And just to prove her point, she drops one hand from Danse's shoulder to his waist, and with a skill she didn't know she had, dips Danse almost perfectly. Danse doesn't flail either, just goes from upright to practically parallel to the ground with no reaction other than the sudden surprise on his face. Cait leans forward, mindful of keeping her balance, and kisses Danse directly on the mouth.

This has the exact opposite effect of getting Deacon and Hancock to shut up. Cait is entirely aware from the start.

"There's nothing quite like the smell of power armor grease and testosterone," she murmurs with a grin, and Danse just replies with a quip about not remembering his shots having any smell to them before kissing her again.


End file.
